Monday Morning
by Sibylle1
Summary: A vignette of a morning on the Ponderosa
1. Chapter 1

**Monday Morning**

Adam Cartwright brushed his mare's back with long strong movements, cleaning the brush with the curry comb every few strokes.

It was a warm morning – Monday morning. But it didn't matter what day it was. The work had to be done whether it was Sunday or Monday; the animals didn't take days off.

Adam brushed the mare's legs carefully.

He always left his own horse to last; it must be 6.30 a.m. He didn't need his pocket watch to know that mucking out the stalls, grooming the horses, and feeding them took an hour. And he wouldn't carry a watch while working in the barn anyway.

In the next stall he heard his younger brother talking. Hoss had outgrown his small pony a year ago but he loved that animal and brought him a special treat each morning when he had finished with the other horses that were his responsibility.

Adam brushed now the belly and the horse lifted one hindleg. "I know that tickles but you are dirty there," he murmured, finished quickly, then patted her nose tenderly.

It was the same routine every day. And the cycle of running the ranch repeated every year. How many years of his life had he spent doing the same tasks by rote? Adam bent down to start on cleaning his horse's hooves.

Little Joe would grow into the same routines, as Hoss -though only twelve-already had.

Adam cleaned the second hoof.

The ranch was expanding, so Pa would have to hire a few hands. He could afford it; Adam knew the books.

The third hoof.

He was almost nineteen. About the same age at which his father had married his mother.

The fourth hoof. As always, the final element of his morning chores.

He rose, suddenly aware how satisfying the rhythm of the ranch's work became when he knew he'd done it well.

Then he saddled the mare and grabbed the bridle and the bucket with oats he had prepared. In less than an hour he would have cleaned himself up, dressed properly, and eaten a quick breakfast.

As he walked the haltered mare from the barn to the hitching post, he realized Hoss had paused in sweeping out the barn and was watching him quizzically.

His brother knew him so well, and meant so much to him. No, today wasn't like always. This Monday morning he would ride into town and mail his commitment to the college.

Or would he, after all?

_Thank you for betareading, Sklamb._


	2. Second version

_Thank you for your nice comments!_

_I`ve written a second version of the story. Don't know which you would like better. I prefer the second. :) _

**Monday Morning (Second version)**

Adam Cartwright brushed his mare's back with long strong movements, cleaning the brush with the curry comb every few strokes.

It was a warm morning – Monday morning. But it didn't matter what day it was. The work had to be done whether it was Sunday or Monday; the animals didn't take days off.

Adam brushed the mare's legs carefully.

He always left his own horse to last; it must be 6.30 a.m. He didn't need a pocket watch to know that mucking out the stalls, grooming the horses, and feeding them took an hour. And he wouldn't carry his watch while working in the barn anyway.

In the next stall he heard his younger brother talking. Hoss had outgrown his small pony a year ago but he loved that animal and brought him a special treat each morning when he had finished with the other horses that were his responsibility.

Adam brushed now the belly and the horse lifted one hindleg. "I know that tickles but you are dirty there," he murmured, finished quickly, then patted her nose tenderly. He yawned. The book he was reading last night had been too exciting to stop. Adam bent down to start on cleaning his horse's hooves. It was the same routine every day – day after day after day. And the cycle of running the ranch repeated too, every year – year after year after year. How many years of his life had he spent doing the same tasks by rote?

Adam set the clean hoof down and started on the second.

Little Joe would grow into the same routines, as Hoss -though only twelve-already had.

The third hoof.

He was almost nineteen. About the same age at which his father had married his mother. The ranch was expanding; Pa should hire a few hands. He could afford it; Adam knew the books. A few more hands and Hoss ….

He finished the fourth hoof. As always, the final element of his usual morning chores.

He rose. A small smile crept over his face. He always liked a well done job - and suddenly he was aware how satisfying the rhythm of the ranch's work was.

Adam took a long breath. He saddled his mare, grabbed the bridle and the bucket with oats he had prepared. In less than an hour he would have cleaned himself up, dressed properly, and eaten a quick breakfast.

As he walked the haltered mare from the barn to the hitching post, he realized Hoss had paused in sweeping out the barn and was watching him quizzically.

Hoss had noticed the change in routine. Normally Adam wouldn't saddle his horse before breakfast. The two brothers were so very close, and that closeness meant so much to Adam.

No, today really wasn't like always. Today, this Monday morning he would ride into town and mail his commitment to the college.

Or would he, after all?


End file.
